POETRY
The Killing Word
A Villanelle in Iambic Pentameter
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage,
Leaving your lips with thoughtless apathy —
Turned away like an old forgotten page —
Like crumpled paper from a distant age.
Tossed into the wind without empathy,
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage.
This picture becomes something I must gauge
As if I’m gifted with telepathy.
Turned away like an old forgotten page,
Your word dismisses and leaves me backstage,
And produces in me antipathy.
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage —
A cold murder that I cannot assuage —
You hit me and run without sympathy.
Turned away like an old forgotten page,
Like clouds hiding the sunrise this dark age —
Like hearts stricken numb with neuropathy.
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage —
Turned away like an old forgotten page.
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
POET’S NOTE: This poem is another response to Sparkle City Magic’s Mystical Adventure ~ Week #2 prompts. The prompts used in this poem are as follows: Paper, Love, Picture and Sunrise.
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